Fork in the Road
by Kitty O
Summary: Threeshot, set after season 1. Skye breaks Ward out of jail to beg for his help in saving the team. Being Skye, though, she's naturally got a trick or two up her sleeve. Sort of Skyeward. Originally uploaded to tumblr as my Inkheart series.
1. This Far and No Further

Skye and Ward, about 2700 words. Skye breaks Ward out of jail with a favor to ask. Set after season 1.

This Far and No Further

* * *

_"Dustfinger is with him, _she thought, trying to comfort herself. _Dustfinger is right behind him, and he left all his own fears behind with death. But Dustfinger will stay with him only as far as the castle gates, _whispered her heart, _and the Piper is waiting beyond them._" – Cornelia Funke, _Inkdeath_ (page 304)

* * *

Ward was in jail. This was where he expected to go, so it wasn't as though he had been caught off guard. Thinking this, he glanced out of his cell and spotted the man standing down the hall. Off guard. Heh. Okay, he made himself laugh.

And since there was no one else around to make laugh…

Grant Ward had tried bouncing a little ball off the wall, as he had seen people do in movies, but found the action stupid and repetitive. He worked at the wall with a pen, which was more entertaining, but ultimately he became bored of that too. He considered writing a letter. He didn't have any friends, though, so he considered his sister – but then realized that the chances that Rose wanted to hear from him were about zero any way you looked at it.

He did some push ups, and he told himself stories.

He had gotten used to the monotony, for the most part, which is probably why it was such a shock to him when the door opened and she walked in.

She was wearing a long coat, which was not very her, but the plaid was underneath. The coat was anonymous enough, and he wanted to know if she was undercover. Perhaps he should not blow it for her.

"What?" he asked.

"Ward," she said. "I need your help."

He studied her face carefully as he stood up off his cot. "What?" he repeated, slightly more disbelievingly. "I'm in jail."

"Yes, I know," she said, looking for all the world like this was the hardest thing she'd ever done. He could see it killing her a little bit. "I'm here to break you out."

He moved without hesitation to her side, and there were two reasons for that. One, she was seriously offering to get him out of jail. He definitely wanted out of jail. No matter what she was playing, it couldn't get worse. Two, she wouldn't have done this without a good reason.

Ward had some time to think about her and her "bomb" and her hatred of him, and he'd come to the conclusion that he'd sort of like to kill her, but he certainly didn't want anyone else doing it.

"Let's go," he said, and she nodded.

The guard didn't even blink when they stepped outside. "Drugs or money?" Ward asked.

"Money," Skye whispered as they moved quietly out of the hated hallway. "I didn't have access to drugs. Simmons…" She shrugged and moved ahead. She pulled a remote out of her pocket. "We're using a distraction to get out of here," she said. "I totally stole explosives from the cabinet, and I tried for weaker ones, but what do I know?" She laughed awkwardly. "Hopefully it ends up just being a distraction. Ready to run?"

Speaking of distractions. "What were you saying about Simmons?"

She swallowed and pulled her coat tighter.

"Is that why you're here?"

"No," Skye said as she peeked around the corner. "I'm not just here for Simmons. I'm here for all of them."

Before he could ask, she pressed the button.

**/**

"That was easy," Ward said an hour later as he walked up the bus's ramp. "Certainly solves the part of the jailbreak where you walk across miles and miles of flat land."

"Autopilot is a beautiful thing," said Skye as she sashayed towards the cockpit. She pulled off the overcoat. Ward couldn't help watching the delicate way she arched her back.

"No," said Ward. "Like, it was really easy. Why was it so easy?"

"You _can_ say that," Skye said. "You didn't have to do explosives by yourself with no training except Youtube videos." She shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. "Look, this is about the team."

"Where are they?" asked Ward. "Why did you have to do it by yourself? Why couldn't Simmons give you the drugs?" He was nervous, as little as he'd like to admit it. There was something very off here.

Skye froze but didn't face him. "I don't know where they are."  
"What, any of them?"

Skye shook her head, and when she turned around, her warm eyes were wet. "Someone took them," she confessed. "And I don't know where they are. And I need you to help me find them."

Ward took several steps towards her, feeling that stupid concerned look slip over his face. He was pretty bad at hiding how he felt for someone who had been undercover for so long. "What happened?"

"You're the only one I could go to," Skye told him. "Hill wouldn't answer. Fury's nowhere to be found. It's just me, and I didn't think Miles really had the skills necessary."

"What happened, Skye?"

"I'll give you whatever you want," said Skye desperately. "You don't have to go back to jail. I've already deleted you off the face of the earth, but I can do it again. I can get you off these crimes. Give you a new name. If you'll help."

"Skye," he snapped, finally so close that he could touch her. He didn't. "I will help. Yes, I'll help. Tell me what happened."

She closed her eyes and sank into the couch, only to immediately jump up again. "I've got to get this thing flying."

"You can fly it?" Ward asked as he followed her. "How long have I been gone?"

"I wake up, the team's gone," said Skye. She sat down in the cockpit. Ward took the copilot seat. Wasn't this a switch? "I go into the lab, and Fitz has used invisible ink to scrawl out 'help' and some instructions – go to the diner where you caught me the first time."

"How did you know to look for the writing?"

"He'd changed out the lightbulb. All I did was turn on the light."

"And you know it was Fitz?"

"I think I'd recognize his handwriting."

"So why me?" Ward asked.  
"I can fight," Skye said. "But not like you."

Ward nodded solemnly and they sat in silence for a little while. And then he cleared his throat. "Fitz," he said.  
"What about him?"

"Coulson just said he was… not the same. No one ever told me…"

"He's not the same," Skye said sharply. "But he can function."

"Look, Skye, I am…"  
She stood up sharply. "We'll be there in four hours," she announced. "You need food or sleep before then?"

"No," he said, and she left the cockpit, and he let her go.

**/**

The diner was awkward.

She sat on the same side she had sat with Mike Peterson a lifetime ago. She pulled out two sugar packets and her laptop. She played around with both.

Ward sat across from her and kept an eye out. No one was following them, it seemed. There were no police this time.

Skye was nervous as ever.

"Do I make you nervous?" Ward asked. "I can go to the bathroom."

"Buy me a milkshake," she told him, tapping away. "No, it's not you, it's the team. I'm worried about them."

Ward was worried about them too. Which was funny. Very funny. Because he'd spent a while in that jail cell telling himself that if he saw them again, he'd win by not caring at all. He'd wanted to punch May over and over again. He'd wanted Coulson to be miserable, too. Well, he had, and then he just hadn't had the energy anymore for a while, so he'd moved into indifference.

And now they were in danger and he was worried about them.

That was either a cruel trick of fate or he was even weaker than he'd thought. He sat and thought about that for a while.

"Oh," said Skye suddenly. "That's what he meant."

"What is?" Ward asked.

"I was wondering how Fitz had managed to hide something here from the bus," said Skye. "But he didn't, of course. It's in my computer, we just had to come here for it to work."

She explained, but Ward didn't understand a word. He nodded intelligently enough, but Skye had him outsmarted when it came to computers. Something about a program, she said. And a message. And the message on the program told her where they needed to go. Apparently.

"So they are at this… warehouse?" Ward said.

"Or maybe there's a clue there, who knows," said Skye, swallowing hard and looking even more nervous. "That's just Fitz's message. It's really very brilliant." She was blinking excessively. "I just hope they aren't hurt," she said, clearing her throat.

Ward's eyebrows drew together and he leant forward. "Skye…"

"Let's go," she said, standing up. "Come on, finish your fries."

Ward paid and followed her out of the diner.

**/**

Two hours to the warehouse.

Ward checked the plane's flight and went to go find Skye. He found her in the kitchen, leaning over her phone.  
"Who you talking to?" he asked.

She looked up and put her phone down. "I missed you," she said, jumping right into it as though she was afraid she'd never say it. "I really did."

"What?" Ward was caught off guard.

She walked towards him, looking at the floor. "I thought maybe you wouldn't help," she said. "I know I offered to get you out, but I thought you'd at least be unsure. You just knew you wanted to help. That's… nicer than I expected."

Ward looked uncomfortable. "I'm not as much a monster as you think," he said.

"Did I say that?" she said, stepping closer still. Then she stopped and looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said, looking so sincere that it hurt him right in his heart. "I get so sick of all this SHIELD-slash-Hydra stuff, don't you?"

His heart was trapped somewhere in his throat, beating like a war drum. "Yeah," he said.

She kissed him, pulling him really close, smiling onto his mouth. He shifted uncomfortably. "Skye," he said, though it took all his willpower. "You don't have to…"

"I know," she told him. "It's not a promise. Just a kiss."

She kissed him again, up on her tip toes. He felt his head go nice and fuzzy, and he kissed her back.

**/**

They both had a gun in their hands, and they were decked out in all black. The warehouse was rusty and falling apart on the outside, but when they peered in, they could see computers and small lights that denoted technology.

"Did someone put a whole house inside of here?" Skye hissed.

"Looks like it."

He felt Skye's arm caress his arm from behind, and he fought back the thrill. No promises, they had said, but still – she didn't hate him. She _liked_ him. It was a start.

"Just walk in?" she asked.

"You see any traps?"

"Clear."

They walked in on full alert. "Come on," Skye said. "Stairs."

"Careful," Ward hissed as he followed her. Someone must have added an entire downstairs section. At the end of the steps there was only a door. It reminded him of his prison cell, with large iron bars and a heavy lock. "Whatever goes in there is not supposed to come out."

"The team?" Skye hissed, stepping in front of him to enter.

"Woah!" he cried, but quietly. "What part of 'careful' did you misinterpret?" He stepped deeper into the darkness with her.

When the lights flared on, it hurt his eyes.

Blinking roughly, he turned to face what appeared to be a veritable army; there were at least ten or fifteen men, all armed to the teeth. Ward lifted his gun and stepped in front of Skye, pushing her behind him. He made eye contact with one man and didn't break it.

Skye's hand was on his. "Give me your gun," she whispered. "I've got an idea."

"What?" Give up his gun? In the middle of a confrontation?

"Grant," she said, using his first name with a tight voice. "Give me your gun!"

He relaxed his fingers but didn't break eye contact with the enemy, and he let her take it away while he listened to his blood pulse in his ears. This idea had better be good, or they were both dead. And now he was a sitting duck, a human shield…  
He waited a second or so before his nerves got the better of him. "Skye? Are you –"

The door clanged shut behind him.

_Maybe you two can be monsters together. _

He couldn't say, not even in his own head, that he had suspected. In all honesty, he hadn't had a clue. Not a glimmer of the idea that this was where it was going to end up. But the moment he heard the door, the truth clicked into place and he knew it all as surely as he knew his own name. His escape had been much too easy. Her technological gibberish hadn't just _sounded_ like nonsense. Every important question he'd asked, she'd managed to duck around. She'd been on edge since he saw her.

Loud and clear like a gunshot to the heart. Before he finished turning around, he knew firmly that she had taken his gun and abandoned him here.

The only surprise was that she was still standing there on the other side of the door.

"_Skye_," he said out loud, and wished he didn't know that it sounded like he'd had his heart ripped out. The door was closed. He thought he'd gotten used to the small, dark space, but that was because he had forgotten how intoxicating freedom was.

She looked up at him with blazing eyes and pushed her hair back. "They have the team," she told him. "And they just wanted _you_. You know that's not a bad trade."

He knew there were men behind him, waiting to take him, but he crossed the distance between her and himself anyway and grabbed at the door. "Don't do this," he said, clearly. It wasn't quite begging. Not yet. "Skye, I was going to help. I wanted to help. You lied."

She wrinkled her nose and looked down at the two guns in her hand. "I had agreed," she said.

He reached through the bars to catch her hands, but she jerked away, and he was left pressed against the bars, glaring at her. The metal didn't bend. "Don't," he said. "Please, Skye." He caught her gaze, and it seemed she either couldn't or didn't want to shake it off. She didn't bend either.

"What do you want me to do now?" she said to him. "It's a bit late. I can't open the door. And don't be like that – you started this. If you hadn't been lying to us from the first…" Her words died abruptly. Her mouth shook for a second. She used to be a better con woman than this.

"I wasn't lying when I kissed you," he said. He could hear himself begging. "You said that – you said… You wanted us to –"

"No," she snapped, stepping back again. "No, _you _wanted. You wanted us. Not me. _You _did. Stop it, Ward, stop with that face – you're so clingy. No one cares, okay?" Her eyes were burning still and her mouth was clenched. She was nearly yelling through her teeth. "No one cares what you want. Who has _ever_ cared what the hell you want?!"

His heart beat was raging, now, and the staff – always there in the back of his mind – was pressing up towards his eyes. He snarled at her, and she took her cue to turn and walk away. But she didn't run – so he knew she wasn't in a hurry to get away from him. She wasn't scared, her walk said.

"Skye!" he yelled. She didn't so much as jump. "Skye! You backstabbing bitch!" He felt his hands slam against the bars. There was no give there, either. "You're not a woman!" he said. "You're a demon! Damn you, Skye! Damn you to hell!"

When she reached the top of the stairs, the men behind him were moving. There was no point in fighting, he realized. He could probably kill some of them, maybe even most of them, but he had no weapons, no knowledge of them, and no backup. And no friends.

He felt himself starting to give, to sink, to collapse, but his knees didn't even hit the ground before the enemy caught him. He wondered distantly what it was they wanted him for as he stared at the last spot he saw Skye in.

"Please," he couldn't stop himself from saying, but he thanked God that Skye could no longer hear him. "Don't leave me here. Don't _do_ this."

He kept staring at the light at the top of the stairs as they pulled him away, but Skye did not reappear.


	2. We Brought Ourselves Here

Skye and Ward, about 4,400 words. Set after season 1. Skye wrestles with herself as she leads a lamb to the slaughter.

We Brought Ourselves Here

* * *

"She stood there so long that Dustfinger eventually closed his eyes so as not to have to look at her, but then he heard her weeping and his face turned hot with shame… She was no longer crying as she passed Dustfinger but she was wiping the tears from her eyes, and for a terrible moment he felt an urge to go to her, comfort her, and explain why he had told Capricorn everything." – Cornelia Funke, _Inkheart_ (page 72-73).

* * *

A fist sliced through the air and landed on the side of Fitz's face.

The assailant didn't let go of his shirt when the blow landed, so Fitz only moved a few inches with impact. His head swiveled all the way around though, and he yelped. He hadn't seen it coming. Which meant he was disoriented.

Skye swallowed hard and jerked her neck, flipping her hair back over her shoulder as she put Trip's gun to her shoulder. She was playing sniper, up here on the catwalk of the warehouse. Black tank top, black pants, boots. She kept thinking about was the annoying beads of sweat that were sticking the bottom of her bra to her lower chest. She licked her lips.

"Come on, Agent Skye," said the man who stood in the center of the room. She could hit him easily. He had no protection, no shield – save Fitz.

She sighed.

"Come on, step into the light. I've heard you're pretty."

"What do you want?" she asked, not moving. She shouldn't be in this position at all. She should have been down on the floor, fighting, with May. (May was unconscious.) And Coulson. (Coulson was on his knees next to May, with three men holding him down.) But she had seen Trip go down, and then they had swarmed him like ants eating away at dead prey and dragged him away. She didn't know if Trip was dead. She hadn't been able to see him after the enemy got him – but she'd gotten to his gun in time.

Fitz had designed the gun, and the enemy wasn't getting their hands on it.

"I want to talk to you, sweetheart."

Skye stepped into the light, her gun still trained on the man. She wouldn't shoot Fitz just to get to him. Hell, she wasn't sure she could shoot him at all – she didn't have what it took. But he didn't need to know that. "Terms of endearment as a way to sound intimidating always just end up sounding stupid," she told him.

"The way I figure it," the man replied, hauling Fitz up so the barely-conscious engineer had to lay back against him to keep from sliding the floor. "I've got your teams, so I call the shots. And the names. Sweetheart."

"Being able to take correction is a sign of maturity."

He punched Fitz again. She felt like the bottom of her stomach was being ripped out.

"You ready to talk, Agent Skye?"

"I'm all ears."

"My people have already gotten into your plane."

Simmons was on the plane._ Oh, please, dear God in heaven… _"Okay," Skye said, trying not to give anything away. "So you've gotten all of us except me. You interested in giving them up?"

"Sure."

"What?" She kept her eyes in motion, flickering around, looking for the trap.

"I'll give them back. I just want you to give me Grant Ward."

Skye snapped her eyes back to his. There was a moment of tense silence. It wasn't like Coulson to be quiet so long – maybe he didn't know what was going on either. "Well, we haven't got him."

"I know," said the man. "He's in prison. I need you to get him and bring him here."

"Assuming," Skye said, adjusting her sweaty grip on the weapon, knowing she'd never leave alive if she fired. "Assuming I agree to this transaction. How would I get him out? For one thing, you've got my team."

"We can get you the resources you need."

"Yeah," Skye said, starting down the steps towards this man. He had to turn to look at her. So she looked like she was in charge of the situation. (She wasn't.) "But if you can break him out, why are you requesting my help?"

"We can get him," said the man. "But if you haven't noticed, he's a fine agent. There's too much chance he'd escape if he knew he'd been kidnapped. You're going to invite him here. If he doesn't know he's in trouble, he won't run."

"I can't lie to him," Skye said breathlessly, thinking of all the pain she'd ever seen in his brown eyes.

"I reject that out of hand as a lie, con woman."

Skye snorted, dropping the act. "Yeah, okay, it was a lie." She looked at Coulson. He was the only one capable of looking back at her. She looked at Fitz. His eyes were closed and his breathing heavy. She looked back at the man's face. "Nice scar."

"Thanks."

"Ugly-ass uniforms, though – gray isn't your color – but nice warehouse. Nice guns. Good training. I'm guessing a subsect or offshoot of Hydra?"

"Probably."

"You're probably up to no good."

There was silence. She ran her hand through her hair and then put it back on the gun.

"So let me get this straight. You break Grant Ward out of prison. I make up a lie and get him here. Then you take him, and give me back my team."

"Precisely."

"And if I refuse…"

"We kill the scientists, and then the specialists, and then your leader here."

Skye flicked her tongue over her teeth. "I want to talk it over with Coulson."

/

"They'll let me walk in?" Skye said as she adjusted her trenchcoat. It was ugly as sin, but she wanted that to be what people remembered when they thought about the incident, not her more memorable features.

"Anyone you'll pass," said a voice in her ear, "is either with us or paid off. Just follow my voice to the cell."

She was nervous at first, walking through these strange guards, turning corners and walking through doors that should have been locked. And then she saw him, and she realized that she didn't even know what nervous meant. Her heartbeat was now through the roof.

"I'm unlocking it," said the voice in her ear. "Screw this up, and…"

"I know," she snapped out loud, but he couldn't hear her from in here. So she just dug her bug out of her ear and dropped it on the floor. Ward might notice it. She stepped on it as she walked past, and quickly opened the door to Ward's cell and walked in.

He looked up at her from the same face as always. It was weird, but in the time he'd been gone, she'd almost started to forget what it looked like. Those cheekbones, those eyes. That hair, a little shorter than she liked it. She'd begun to think he must have either looked like a demon, there to steal her virtue and wreck her life, or like an angel – a clever façade meant to steal her heart. But he didn't. He looked like a human. Well, he looked like death warmed over, actually. Did he ever sleep anymore?

"What?" he asked.

"Ward," she said. Did she have to do this? Well, no, technically. Coulson had told her not to, after all. But she was going to do it anyway. "I need your help."

How she'd missed that look. The 'you're-an-idiot' look. It used to be a breath of fresh air. "What?" he said again. "I'm in jail."

She almost started to smile before she remembered the situation. "Yes, I know," she said, willing her voice not to break. This was the hardest thing she had ever done. "I'm here to break you out."

She imagined what it would be like if he saw right through her. If he realized she was only saying what he wanted to hear, and refused to play along. He would stand up straight and tell her to get out, and she wouldn't have to do this, and – and the team would die.

He came to her immediately and nodded. "Let's go."

She nodded in response and led him from his cell.

"Drugs or money?" he asked, pointing to one of the guards. The man acted like he couldn't see them.

"Money," she responded, unsure if it was true. Her ex-teammate sounded like he trusted her, which was just cruel. _He probably deserves this,_ she reminded herself. _He's Traitor Zero._ _I'm a copycat. _She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could and reached into her pocket for the fake remote. It was just from their bus, but he had to think she was alone and in control. "I didn't have access to drugs. Simmons…" _Two moment pause. Continue. _"We're using a distraction to get out of here. I totally stole explosives from the cabinet, and I tried for weaker ones, but what do I know? Hopefully it ends up just being a distraction. Ready to run?"

"What were you saying about Simmons?"

_Caught that, did ya?_ She pulled her coat and didn't answer.

"Is that why you're here?"

"No. I'm not just here for Simmons. I'm here for all of them."

She spared a glance at his face. When she saw the poorly hidden concern there, she knew that he would buy the whole thing, hook, line, and sinker. She waited until she was within sight of a fake guard, and then pushed the button on the remote.

/

_"What are you going to do to him if I bring him to you?"_

_"Maybe I'll just kill him. A man like that has enemies. People who want him dead."_

_"But you wouldn't go through all this trouble for that. What do you really want from him?"_

_"Maybe you'll sleep better if I don't answer the question, sweetheart."_

/

Skye was standing on the bus ramp, watching him walk up, when he spoke again.

"That was easy. Certainly solves the part of the jailbreak where you walk across miles and miles of flat land."

"Autopilot is a beautiful thing," she said as she started for the cockpit, turning so he couldn't see her face. The less he did, the less chance of him spotting a lie. Of course, she didn't know how to work autopilot that well. She could fly the plane and set a course, but she'd needed May for something this tricky. Luckily, May, unlike Coulson, had come down on Skye's side.

Ward was persisting as he followed her, "No, like it was really easy. Why was it so easy?"

He had good instincts. "You _can_ say that," Skye said. "You didn't have to do explosives by yourself with no training except Youtube videos." She shrugged her shoulders and thought that it was time for another distraction. "Look, this is about the team."

"Where are they?" he asked, instantly worried, damn him. She'd thought he would be hard to convince, and it would have made it easier. His hand brushed her arm, but he caught himself. "Why did you have to do it by yourself? Why couldn't Simmons give you the drugs?"

She stared hard at the side of the bus and stopped walking. "I don't know where they are."

"What, any of them?"

She blinked tears into her eyes carefully as she turned to face him. "Someone took them. And I don't know where they are. And I need you to help me find them."

He moved towards her, and she felt her stomach roll nervously again. Last time they'd met, he'd been threatening to shoot her. And possibly rape her, though that part was a bit fuzzier. She would be angry when she wasn't leading him to his death. "What happened?" he asked.

"You're the only one I could go to," Skye told him. "Hill wouldn't answer. Fury's nowhere to be found. It's just me, and I didn't think Miles really had the skills necessary."

"What happened, Skye?"

And who did he think he was, looking kind? He was a monster, wasn't he? Well, _wasn't_ he?

Skye didn't have to fake her desperation, just redirect it. "I'll give you whatever you want. You don't have to go back to jail. I've already deleted you off the face of the earth, but I can do it again. I can get you off these crimes. Give you a new name. If you'll help."

He was really close to her as he quietly assured her that he was going to help. But all she could think about was the rush of blood in her ears and the sudden weakness in her knees as she moved to sit down.

_It's hard to be angry at someone as you plan to follow in their footsteps. _But she would manage.

"I've got to get this thing flying," she said as she jumped back up. He followed her. Surely he would notice that she kept changing the subject.

"You can fly it? How long have I been gone?"

_Too long and never long enough. _

She moved into the pilot seat as she began to spin the story. Fitz was the hero in her version, the person who left the clue. Because thinking about Fitz made it easy to be angry. Ward had nearly killed the engineer, and it was Fitz's face that suffered most of the violence from her new employers.

But then, Ward –

"Look, Skye, I am…"

She couldn't hear him apologize. She couldn't. It would ruin everything. It would ruin _her_.

Giving him the brush off was easy, and the course was set. So she just left him there alone.

/

_"Simmons, before you go with them, help me trash up the lab a bit. We need invisible ink, and we need to change the lightbulb – I know Fitz had a few of those weird black ones…"_

_"Skye, you know this isn't a good idea."_

_"Better idea than having us all die."_

_"But Skye, this will make you…"_

_"Better him than us, and I don't care. Look, I don't need your understanding. Just your cooperation."_

/

The diner was good. The diner would provide a much needed stop along the road to their utter destruction. The diner would give her a chance to tap at her laptop and look like she was being smart, rather than being controlled.

Plus, the last time she had tricked him, she'd brought him here. That time, she'd revealed the truth. This time, she was going to lie like a mangy dog. It was poetic justice.

She even remembered to play with the sugar again. It kept her grounded, helped her think.

"Do I make you nervous? I can go to the bathroom."

Ward was being strangely nice. Skye wanted to ask him why. She wanted to slam her hands down on the table and demand to know why he didn't hate them bitterly, and to remind him that he was not forgiven. But that would lead into awkward territory.

_Just trying to have an honest conversation for once. _

No, right now, the last thing she wanted was an honest conversation. Ah, well. She'd settle for a milkshake.

"No," she told him, tapping away. "It's not you. It's the team. I'm worried about them."

Ward lapsed into silence, and she was thankfully left alone with her thoughts.

**We're at the diner**, she sent.

The email was answered in half a minute, but all the same, she waited another five before she spoke. "Oh. That's what he meant."

Of course Ward asked for clarification.

"I was wondering how Fitz had managed to hide something here from the bus," said Skye. "But he didn't, of course. It's in my computer, we just had to come here for it to work." Did that sound rehearsed? It was utter bull any way you looked at it, but she wanted it to sound spontaneous, at least.

Ward nodded as she talked.

She sort of babbled. "He used, like, a tracker. Sort of. He had it all connected, I think, but the program didn't work on my computer until we got here. Maybe he had it on time lock, or place lock – he was trying to throw them off our trail. Anyway, this is the location…"

No way he would fall for this, she thought.

He totally fell for it. "So they are at this warehouse?"

"Or maybe there's a clue there." She blinked. "Who knows?" Well, she knew. She knew, and it wasn't a clue. It was Ward's death. She was leading him to his death. Wow, what she was doing was closer to Judas than –

She cut off that line of thought.

She looked emotional. "I just hope they aren't hurt."

"Skye…"

"Let's go. Come on, finish your fries."

_Come on,_ she thought. _Let's just got this over with. _

/

Kissing him was mean, and she didn't mean to. She panicked.

She was leaning over her phone in the kitchen, all alone.

**We'll be there in two hours, **she texted to the person she hated most in the world right now.

**Don't screw this up, **went the response.

And then there was Ward, and he scared her, and all she could think was, _Say something. Say something before he realizes… _

"I missed you. I really did."

She hadn't meant to tell him, even though it was true. Skye hadn't meant to go there, but now she was talking, and he was listening, and damn, he was handsome. She couldn't believe he was here.

"I'm not as much a monster as you think," he said.

No, but she wished he was. She wished he was soulless, and hard, and hateable. Because then all her anger at him wouldn't feel like shoddily covered up pain, and maybe she wouldn't mind being the knife that stabbed him.

"Did I say that?" she asked, getting close to him to distract him yet again. "I'm sorry."

And she was. Because she was as much of a monster as he was, so she'd really condemned herself. And she was sorry about that.

"I get so sick of all this SHIELD-slash-Hydra stuff, don't you?"

She knew speaking the truth was the best way to lie sometimes.

And then they were kissing. She told him the truth again, told him that he could relax because it was – "just a kiss, not a promise."

But he was kissing her back, and she could feel his enthusiasm. His heartbeat was up, and his arms were hungry. He was happy.

She wanted to die.

/

_"Skye, we don't know what they want from him. It could endanger us all."_

_"You know what else would endanger us? Being murdered. Shut up, AC, I'm doing this. You watch out for Trip and Fitz."_

_"Skye, keep your wits about you. Remember, Ward can't be trusted, and neither can this Hydra man."_

_"And neither can I," said Skye, and tried to make it sound lighthearted. _

/

Getting Ward inside the warehouse was like taking candy from a baby. Getting him down the stairs was like leading a lamb to the slaughter.

She felt like scum the entire time, of course, but whatever. It didn't matter. It didn't add up to a hill of beans in this crazy world – no, that was _Casablanca_. Ward had shown her that movie months ago, and she remembered crying at the end.

Skye was in the dark, and he followed her into it willingly. When the lights flared on, it hurt her eyes. She flinched as he pushed her behind him, putting himself between her and the army that waited to take him.

It was hard to breathe normally. But she wasn't finished yet. Judas had to kiss Jesus, and she had to do one last thing as well. She let her hand linger on his arm as she said, "Give me your gun. I've got an idea."

"What?" So shocked sounding.

"Grant! Give me your gun!" She slipped her hand down to his. He didn't actually give it to her, but he let her take it. Because she'd told him that she had a plan. Because Ward trusted Skye with this.

Okay, she needed to stop thinking.

Quietly, quietly, she backed up. She went right out of the room, and now the barred door was between them, but she just hadn't shut it yet. Once she did this…

He hadn't looked away from the enemy. "Skye, are you…"

She didn't think, just pushed.

_Clang. _

She didn't let herself look away when he turned around. It was like slow motion, watching him spin on the spot. He knew what he was going to see. And she knew that she was going to be standing there like his (possible) worst nightmare. And for the very, very first time, she found herself wondering what kind of deal with the devil had driven him to be a traitor. For her, it was the team. What did he get out of it?

She'd seen that face before. It was the 'Coulson-is-telling-me-that-Garrett's-the-Clairvoyant' face. It was the 'I-just-kissed-you-Skye-and-now-I'm-off-to-betray-you' face. The eyebrows were all tilted and the eyes were big and warm and sad. And his hands were empty, but she held two different guns.

"Skye," he whispered, like it hurt.

She pushed back her hair. Skye wanted to be angry. She wanted to be flippant and cold, and she really wanted to be a monster. She pushed her hair back and said, "They have the team, and they just wanted _you_. You know that's not a bad trade." She didn't expect him to understand.

He got so close that she had to step back, like the door wasn't enough. His knuckles went white when he gripped the bars. She glanced at the men behind him and saw them waiting for her to leave. She should leave.

"Don't do this." Her eyes snapped back to his. She didn't look away. "Skye, I was going to help. I wanted to help. You lied."

Well, that fact hardly made her special around here, did it? She made a face. "I had agreed."

He tried to reach for her – she'd known he would. He would want the guns. But she was too quick for him.

"Don't," he said. "Please, Skye."

She tried to remember that he was just as likely to be playing her as she was to be playing him at any point in time. So she kept her eyes locked on him, and reminded them both that it was too late. She'd closed the door. All there was left to do was walk away – and she couldn't seem to do it.

"What do you want me to do now?" Get angry, she thought. Fuzzy and angry and fiery. "It's a bit late. I can't open the door. And don't be like that – you started this. If you hadn't been lying to us from the first…" How could she sit there and make it his fault that he'd been betrayed? That just didn't seem fair.

"I wasn't lying when I kissed you," he begged. Her heart thumped. "You said that – you said… You wanted us to –"

_He is lying,_ she told herself. She knew he was not. But what did it matter? What the hell did it matter? It was too damn late, and she'd made her choice.

She'd wanted them to be friends.

She'd wanted to give him a chance to love her, to start an us. She'd wanted to tell him the truth and know he could return the favor. She'd wanted him to live a long life.

She had not wanted him to die. She had not wanted to betray him. Even if he started it.

But who cared what she wanted? Not this world. Who the hell cared what she wanted?

She started yelling at him, then, hoping to push the rage and the pain both onto him. She hardly knew what she was saying until afterward, when they would repeat themselves to her with perfect clarity.

"No. No, _you _wanted. You wanted us. Not me. _You _did. Stop it, Ward, stop with that face – you're so clingy. No one cares, okay? No one cares what you want. Who has _ever_ cared what the hell you want?!"

She turned and walked away, slowly enough to drive him mad.

And it seemed her effort to share the rage and the pain succeeded. Behind her, she could hear him yelling.

"Skye! _Skye_!"

She knew exactly what she was, but he got colorful.

_"You're not a woman. You're a demon. Damn you, Skye. Damn you to hell."_

_Kiss my ass, _she wanted to tell him. _I don't give a damn if you're hurt. _

(Oh, but she did. She really, really did.)

/

She stepped into the light once more and immediately slapped her gun to the head of the man in charge. Her jaw was working, and she was unflinching.

"You've got them all here?" she said, looking around to confirm for herself. Coulson, staring at her. May, looking ill but stoic. Trip, with a battered face, and Fitz next to him, looking distant. Jemma, unharmed but scared. All with their hands behind their heads, watching the men around them.

"You did good, Agent Skye, sweetheart," said the man in charge. "And I'm a man of my word."

"Wonderful," said Skye. "So you let them walk out, and then I'll remove this gun from your head and follow."

"Hostile, aren't you?"

"I had to talk to Ward for hours on the way over here. It's enough to make anyone cranky."

The man smiled at her. His scar stretched. "You're cold. Alright, let them walk, men. Maybe we can do business sometime in the future, Skye," he finished.

She watched her friends disappear. And then she followed them, her back towards the door, her gun still on the enemy, the employer, the scar-man.

"What do you think of my offer, Skye?" he asked, gleefully.

She thought, though it might have been pure fancy, that she could still hear Ward yelling after her.

"Go to hell," she said, and meant it.

She caught up to her friends soon enough, but no one let their guard down until they reached the bus. No one talked until the bus was thoroughly checked for bugs, problems, or explosives.

And then Skye sat on the couch. "Coulson," she said. "Can we save him?"

He sat next to her. "What?"

"Ward. Can we save Ward? Please. Just… can we try? I… he… AC…" She could feel her mask cracking, and the tears coming.

Coulson slipped his hand into hers. "God help the person who tries to stop us," he promised.

She buried her face into his shoulder, not caring if May glared, and let the tears wash over her eyes and down her cheeks. But they still couldn't erase the memory of Ward's pained face that seemed to be etched into her eyelids.


	3. Is It Too Late to Turn Back?

Skye and Ward. Some Fitz and other team members. About 4,800 words. Set after Season 1. Ward survived the betrayal, but he might not survive the rescue.

Is It Too Late to Turn Back?

* * *

"'Desperate? So what? I'm desperate, too!' Fenoglio snapped at her. 'My story is foundering in misfortune, and these hands here,' he said, holding them out to her, 'don't want to write anymore! I'm afraid of words, Meggie! Once they were like honey, now they're poison, pure poison! But what is a writer who doesn't love words anymore? What have I come to? This story is devouring me, crushing me, and I'm its creator!'" - _Inkspell_, Cornelia Funke, page 607

* * *

_"I admit you definitely one-upped me this time."_

Skye tapped her foot and stared hard at the clean, white hospital floor. She was on the edge of her seat. She had her jacket pulled up and around her tight so that no one could see the blood spatters that turned her plaid into a splotchy brown in places – she was afraid someone would send her away. And she didn't want to be sent away.

She pushed her hair back and stared ever harder, trying to focus on her breathing. Coulson would be there, right beside her, but she'd sent him away. Somehow her panic seemed harder to handle when there was someone next to her – Coulson would want to comfort her, and she would have to remember that there was no possible comfort right now. There hadn't been since she'd seen…

She slapped her hand against the metal chair and leaned back, trying to huff but only managing what sounded like a sob.

She looked up. A black man in blue scrubs was looking back at her, walking towards her – her heart stopped so fast it was like a gift from Deathlok.

"Is he okay?"

"Are you Skye?"

"Yes, sure, yes. Is he going to be okay?"

"Where are the other…"

"I don't know!" she snapped. She hadn't slept in over a day. "Is he going to be okay?"

The man paused and looked down at his clipboard. He had a solemn face. If Skye hadn't been sitting, she would have fallen down. He was dead; she could feel it. He was dead, or as a good as. She gripped the chair so tightly her knuckles turned white behind brown skin.

/~/

Skye had her face in Coulson's shoulder still, a small figure in all black, and there were two guns at the floor by her feet. She was trying not to cry, which she'd always been rather good at, but right now she was just… in so much pain. And Coulson felt so much like a father.

From her hiding place, she heard footsteps. And then Fitz.

"I sent the DWARF back as soon as we got here," he said.

"It's in position?" said May. She was still there.

"Yeah," said Fitz, but it sounded like he was trying to talk with his mouth full – weirdly stunted. "But they're moving him."

Skye picked her head up. First she glanced at May. She'd expected the woman to be glaring – Skye always got the impression that she didn't quite approve of the relationship that Coulson and Skye shared. But she wasn't. She looked as kindly as her non-expression would allow her to be. Looking over at Fitz, Skye discovered the reason for his funny speech – his bruised face was already patched up, and it was making it hard to talk. Talking had been more difficult for Fitz anyway, since the accident.

Well… "Accident"…

Skye supposed it was more surprising that Simmons had even let him out of the lab already. Maybe she was caring for Trip.

Giving her eyes one brutal wipe, Skye stood up, placing her hand on Coulson's shoulder for support.

"Fitz and I will find him," she said, straightening. "If it's the last thing I do. Right, Fitz?"

"Come hell or high water," he agreed. "Is that the mailmen thing?"

Skye gave Coulson one last, grateful look.

"Okay," she said, turning to Fitz and clapping her hands. "Where's my laptop? Let me at 'em."

/

Simmons had been against the whole thing from the beginning, of course, but as she strapped on her ICEr, she reflected that to say so would be insensitive right now. Skye was suffering enough.

She looked through the glass doorway as Skye walked in, studying her shirt. It was plaid, naturally, and over it, she wore the leather jacket.

"Skye?" called Simmons, and her friend entered the lab.

"Yep," she said. "Here for weapons duty. You're passing the guns out, right?"

"Is it a good idea to wear that in the field?" Simmons asked. "I had to read the handbook to take the field exam, which I admittedly failed rather spectacularly, but it did say clearly that –"

"Simmons."

Simmons smiled at her expectantly.

Skye zipped up her jacket. "Better?"

"Looks warm."

"Thanks, mom. It's… it's the outfit I wore the day Ward, ah, kidnapped me." She snorted. "It's very romantic, right?" She tried to laugh.

Simmons did not laugh back, but studied her with pity.

"The guns," Skye reminded her, when she'd had quite enough of that.

"Right!"

"We're going with the usual," Fitz said as he came in, studying and fiddling with a small device in his hand. He'd donned black for this. "I've got my localized EMT, and everyone gets a night-night gun."

"We call them ICErs, now, Fitz," Simmons reminded him softly, not looking up.

Fitz looked momentarily annoyed. "Right. We all get one. And Simmons and I are going in too."

"You asked Coulson?"

"We informed him, yes," said Simmons. She was cute when she tried to pull off the confident air. She handed Skye an ICEr and _tsk_ed, looking around. "I'm going to go get… yes…" She walked out of the lab and the door slid shut behind her.

Skye played with the gun, smiling slightly to herself as she remembered learning how to use it. "This is the magazine release," she said out loud.  
"What?" said Fitz.

She looked up. "Nothing." She kept her eyes on him, and he kept his on her. "So," she said.

"So," he said.

"What's your opinion of what I did?"

Fitz shrugged. "Does it matter?" he turned back to his small device.

"I don't know," she said, pulling herself up on the table. "Would you have done it? Coulson and Simmons told me not to, told me to find another way. Wonder if that makes them feel any better."

"Probably," Fitz said, glancing up. "A false sense of moral superiority can be a soothing thing, even if you don't want to admit it. It's hard to get rid of, but it's also not their style – have they been giving you trouble?"

"No," Skye admitted. _I have, _she thought. _Just me._

Fitz bit his tongue as he stared at the device in his hand. "I don't know what I would have done," he said finally, just when Skye thought he wasn't going to speak.

"You don't…"

"I don't," Fitz said again. He put down the metal contraption so he could look at Skye. He was concentrating on his words, trying to force them out past the swollen mouth. "I thought about it, of course, but all I could come up with was that I was grateful I was too unconscious to have an opinion. Letting anything happen to the team – what about Simmons? I wouldn't be able to do anything without her. In more ways than one, now. But going for Agent Ward…" His face twisted. "I can't imagine. Bloody hell, I wouldn't even want to go near him, honestly."

Skye's eyebrows went up. "Do you…"

"Nah," he said, turning away again. "I still don't remember most of it. But I get the impression. Simmons has been acting weird ever since, too. Eventually I'm going to have to… Look, she's coming back. Basically, I don't envy you your position, Skye. But it's done, isn't it? No one's judging you. We just need to get him back."

Skye thought about that as she watched Simmons cross the hangar carrying a box. "Thanks, Fitz," she said at last. "I think it helped."

"Good."

Simmons entered. "Okay, found it," she said. "Forgot the comms link."

"I've got it, Simmons," Fitz said, rushing over. When his hand brushed hers, she pulled away. He definitely noticed.

/

"Do you think he's still alive?" Skye asked May as they watched the door slide open. One time, Ward had jumped out of here to save Simmons.

"Probably," May said. "It's only been twenty four hours."

"Remember that time Coulson got kidnapped?" asked Skye.

"Yes." Of course she did.

"Ward totally set us up for that, didn't he?"

"Yes." Though the Mike Peterson/explosion had probably caught him a little by surprise.

"You think if I get good and angry about it, I can just focus on finding him so I can punch him in the face, and it will be easier?"

"I have no idea," said May.

By the time Coulson gave the order to move out, they were both ready.

/

"EMT," Fitz said, handing it to Trip. "If they can't see us, it's harder to get us."

"Who got the ICEr grenades?" asked Trip, grinning. "Those were cool."

"Coulson and Simmons," Fitz said. "They're going in from opposite directions. You and I get to wait here for the way to be as clear as it's gonna get. We're the actual rescue. Besides, Simmons is afraid our injuries will cause us to pass out in the middle of a fight."

"What, this?" Trip asked, pointing towards his face, still smiling. "This is nothing. I've had worse from Garrett."

Fitz flinched but chose not to comment.

/

Skye slammed into the ground and skidded, but immediately leapt to her feet and shook her head ferociously to clear it. Her ICEr had been knocked clear away, and she turned to glare empty-handed at the man who had knocked her down.

_Look at those ugly uniforms._

She leapt for him again, ignoring the gun in his hand, and knocked him down before he could get a shot off. She landed on top of him. And then she punched him in the face. It didn't feel as good as she'd expected it to.

/

Simmons yelped and threw a grenade, ducking behind the shelf to the left of her and praying this one didn't fall on her. May was right next to her, a little island of quiet in the loud din.

"You got this?"

Simmons had told Skye not to do as these men had ordered. It was less because of any concern for an ex-teammate, and more a determination that these men – obviously of a Hydra flavor – not get what they want. And also, sort of a matter of pride. It was easy for her to say, since the call wasn't hers. She really had hardly been concerned for Ward's well-being at all.

She pulled out another grenade and listened to the soundtrack of the screaming. "I got this."

/

"That's Coulson's signal," Fitz said, jumping to his feet. "Let's go."

/

The metal was cold. The kind of cold that you couldn't ignore, the kind that seeped into your blood like poison, like stimulators, like truth serum. His back ached from the cold. He couldn't feel his nose.

Ward moved his fingers to remind himself that they were still his to control. There were voices, still, but he'd stopped listening to them about an hour ago.

Everyone always seemed to think that he knew things. He didn't. Garrett never told him anything. Garrett never told anyone anything. Ward knew how to keep Garrett from dying when he malfunctioned, but that was about it. And he hadn't done all that well at that job either, had he?

He couldn't feel his nose, but he could sure as hell feel the rest of him, and it felt like hell.

_Garrett never told him anything. _

Something was wrong. Out there, in the room, outside of himself. Something had changed. Something was wrong.

/

"Skye!" Coulson snapped as she wrested the gun out of the unconscious man's hands. Where was her ICEr? She hadn't seen it since she fell, and that was several minutes ago.

"What?" she yelled back.

"Go to Trip and Fitz. Let's hurry this up."

She nodded firmly and took off towards the back room she'd seen them disappear into.

/

Between Fitz's EMT and Trip's ICEr, most of the men were out. Fitz mechanically slapped his newest invention on the wall and the lights in the room flickered back on. It was a small device, about the size of a coin. He'd woken up in the hospital with a strange and deep desire to invent it.

"Oh, bloody hell," Fitz breathed for the second time today. This time, because he'd just seen Ward. Fitz was squeamish in the best of circumstances, at least according to Simmons, and this was not those circumstances. His skin color was off, all pale with red splotches. He didn't have his shirt. His face had a few bruises, but his chest was all torn up. Fitz's eyes landed on a piece of skin and then he looked away again. He was frozen in his spot.

Ward was struggling to lift his head, looking around. His brown eyes were bloodshot.

Trip was over by the door. "Man," he ordered. "Get over there. I'm coming. I think we need to hurry – there might be more."

"Ward?" Fitz asked as he stumbled over, undoing the straps as quickly as he could.

"Fitz?" Ward grunted, shaking his head like he couldn't understand. He blinked, hard. "I can barely see."

"That's okay; it looks the same as the last hellhole. Can you walk?"

"Yes," Ward said. "You're really here and everything?" He grunted and turned away briefly, still trying to see.

"I'm here. We're all here, actually."

A smile flickered over his face. He closed his eyes. "Ah, came cra- crawling b… Nevermind, no b-banter; just help me up."

"Yeah, totally," said Fitz, lending a hand. Ward struggled to his feet, but once he was there, he pushed Fitz away. Fitz stepped back obediently. Honestly, he didn't particularly want to be near Ward anyway. It made his heartbeat do funny things. Not good funny things, like when Simmons hugged him. Bad funny things, like when he tried to remember what had happened in the big black spots in his memory.

Ward breathed deeply as he straightened, lifting his face and flexing his arm. Still felt like hell, but he could feel his bare feet pressed against the cool ground, and he could walk out of here, and that's what counted. He rolled his shoulders.

And then a gunshot ripped through the air. Ward followed the sound immediately by grunting in pain. At least that would probably be the accurate way to describe it on a report, but in reality it was a sound that defied description, like someone had just ripped something vital out of him. His hands went to his abdomen, and he crumpled before Fitz could catch him.

Fitz's eyes flew to the steps, where Skye stood, her gun out and Ward's name on her lips.

And for a brief, impossible, horrible second, Fitz thought that the world had just spun off its axis. His heart nearly stopped in his chest – and then he saw the concern on her face.

And then he followed her eyes to the ignoble leader, Mr. Sweetheart himself, who had made it to his feet and had his gun pointed where Ward had just been.

It made more sense.

"What?" cried Skye, like she just couldn't believe it.

Trip moved to Ward's side.

The leader spun to face Skye, his gun up and ready to fire again. He was aiming to kill her. So she shot him. She shot him right in the chest, and he fell back and smeared blood down the wall where he slid. He did not get back up again, and Skye hadn't even moved.

"Oh," she said in a quiet little voice. "That's what it takes to pull the trigger."

And then she dropped her gun. That was a terribly dangerous thing to do, and in another life, Ward would be fussing at her about it.

"Get Coulson," Trip ordered Fitz. "Get him, quick."

Fitz nodded and took off running.

Skye staggered her way over to Trip and Ward, kneeling next to them. "Is he…"

"He's conscious, but not for long."

"Gut shots are the worst," she whispered as she turned her eyes to Ward's blotchy face.

"Skye?"

"Yep, that's mine, I'm Skye," she said quietly.

Ward grunted. "I admit you definitely one-upped me this time." He tried to reach for her face. He thought perhaps she would swat him away, but he wanted to touch her cheek. Just once. He didn't make it before the world went black and his hand fell to his side.

So he wasn't aware of Skye grabbing it and pressing it to her face herself.

/~/

"He's dead."

Skye whispered the words to herself, trying them out for size.

"No, he's not."

Her eyes shot up to the doctor.

"He's going to be fine. Well, fine. It will take him quite a while to fully recover, but he's out of surgery, and he's going to survive."

Skye stared at him. "Say it again."

"He's going to be okay. Ma'am, is that blood?"

She quickly zipped up her jacket. "He's not dead," she said, trying to keep the smile off of her face. "When can I see him?"

"When he's awake."

"I'll tell the others. Thank you, doctor."

Skye sat back as the doctor walked away. She tried to hold off her thoughts for a few minutes – why couldn't she just soak in the relief? - but failed.

This was good, probably, but it also brought up a lot of problems. For one, most of the team, her included, hated Ward with a good half of her mind. And for another, she wasn't even sure she had the high ground anymore – was she even allowed to hate Ward at this juncture, or would that be beyond the bounds of fair? Ward could hate her. That thought made her uncomfortable. If he yelled at her, she would be the one who was all ashamed.

The sappy feelings part aside, what were they gonna do with him practically? Drop him back in jail, probably, but that did feel a little mean. _Hey, Ward, just dropped by to kidnap you and promise you freedom, hand you to people who want to torture you, save you and heal you, and then drop you back where we got you. You don't feel used or anything, do you? _

"Ugh," she said out loud, pulling her hair in frustration.

May sat down next to her a few minutes later. "Any news?" she asked, checking out how disheveled Skye was.

"He's gonna make it," Skye said. "Which is, you know, a relief. Glad I wasn't directly responsible for his death."

May rubbed a hand down her shoulder comfortingly. "At most," she said, "you would have been _in_directly responsible."

"Hey, thanks," Skye said sarcastically. "You remember you agreed with me, right?"

May was doing the silent support thing again, though, so Skye didn't try to pick a fight.

"They said I could see him when he wakes up. Don't worry, I'm not going to punch him in the face. I don't think. You know, he probably knew Mike wasn't dead! And he didn't tell us!"

May looked at her. Skye did that every time she thought about Ward – remembered a new time that Ward did something "bad" that looked "good" at the time.

"I'm nervous," Skye admitted. "But I'm glad he's alive. You think the others will be happy?"  
She did.

"We should go find them and tell them."

There was a pause.

"What are we going to _do_ with him?"

May's mouth quirked up.

/

Skye took in all the hospital stuff as she walked in the door. He was all hooked up and something was beeping. All this white. He looked so weird in that pale blue. The Ward she knew – both Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. – only wore dark colors. Blacks, generally. He looked good in them. Skye thought he knew it, too.

He was laying in bed. Not really looking at her. Not really looking away. She couldn't look away from him, though.

"You wanted to see me," she said.

He turned his face to her and his eyebrows did that crinkly thing. She hadn't seen him this clean in… so long.

"I didn't ask for you," he said. "You decided to see me."

"Oh," said Skye, and sat down in the chair next to the bed. "You, uh, scared the hell out of me."

Ward grunted and shifted to get more comfortable. It was almost a wriggle, but Ward was not a wriggler. "Now you know how it feels," he said. "Different when you aren't the one gutshot."

Skye looked at the blanket. "Yeah."

Silence.

"You wanted to…"

"Ah, I figured you might have questions or something," Skye said. "And I mean, I wanted to apologize."

"Don't."

"Apologize?"

"Yeah," Ward said. "You'd do it again. So don't worry about it."

"I mean, that doesn't make me less sorry," Skye pointed out, sort of wishing she could touch him. The tactile element – somehow that would help her communicate, she was sure. "And not all of it. The kiss… That… I mean, I wouldn't do that. I just panicked."

"I am out of practice." Damn his neutral voice. And his stubble.

"That's not what I meant, Ward," she said, knowing he was being obtuse on purpose. "It was cruel. And I know you're going to pretend like you didn't care too much, and that's reasonable, but it was over the line."

Ward actually cracked a smile. "Skye. Look at me. They tore apart my chest. You think I'm offended because you kissed me?"

"Yes."

Ward shrugged. Fair enough. There was a moment of silence again, but it was less uncomfortable. "It makes sense," he admitted.

"What?"

"In a non-personal way, it makes sense. One of me. Five of them. That's a more than fair trade."

It wasn't forgiveness, exactly, but it almost felt like it. Skye smiled to herself as she reached out a hand to play with his sheet.

"Did you think I wouldn't agree if you just asked me?" he said.

"What?"

She asked the question, prompting him to repeat it, but of course she'd heard him fine. And she was not in the least confused about what he meant. But it just hit her. It just sank right in. They'd told her to trick him. She'd tricked him. She hadn't even considered telling the truth because… because…

"Did you think if you told me the situation, I wouldn't have gone along with it?"

"Of course you wouldn't have," Skye said. "You… we put you in prison."

"You didn't think about it."

"You were going to saw May's face off!"

That was months ago now. There was something in Ward's eyes. It was a relief to see sparks there.

"Of course I didn't!" Skye said. "Why would I? Those weren't the orders."

Ward looked at his hands for a minute. "You know what I don't quite understand?" he said. He didn't wait for her to answer. "The difference."

"What do you mean?" Still the beeping sound. Heart monitor? Was it a bit quick?

Ward licked his lips. "You. Me. Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. I mean, I never believed all that 'freedom is dangerous' crap, of course not. John and I had to find a way to save him, and Hydra had it, so we join. And that's wrong. Everyone says that's wrong, don't they. But what's the difference, really? Your team is in danger and you get orders on how to save them, so you lie and you betray and it's not personal. You win and you get to sit there and apologize. No, let me finish. I follow orders and it's not personal and I try to get what I want. I lose and I go to jail. Am I only wrong because I lost?"

"No," Skye said. "That's not… that's not how it is, Grant, and you know it." Her hand had fallen to her lap. For once, it was still. "It's wrong because it is."

"So what's the difference?"

"You shot people, Ward!" Oh, yeah, she was angry at him. She kept forgetting that. Only when she forgot the things he'd done and thought this was way back when. "Did you see what Fitz—"

"I got pretty torn up my—"

"And you killed people! And don't bring up that man, because it was self defense and I don't want to talk about it. You shot innocent people. Who weren't armed. You did! That's the difference, Ward! You might have been trying to protect someone, but he didn't deserve it anyway, and you went too far." She nodded, glad to have found her footing. "And it was wrong." She was on her feet. Not hovering over him, not domineering, just passionate. "And so did I, and that was sort of wrong, I suppose, and I'm sorry, but we went back for you." They'd gone back for it. "We fixed it as best we could."

But rather than give Ward pause, this only seemed to excite him. It was as close to wriggling as he would ever get. His dark eyes were alive. They used to look like that. Before he came out as Hydra. This, however, was probably not an act.

"So the difference between us is that you got lucky and got better orders."

Skye just sort of looked at him. "No, I don't…"

"I do. I think so. That's what I'm sick of." He never really got excited, in her memory, but he did look pretty fixated right now. "Not Hydra versus S.H.I.E.L.D., but both of them. It's all… orders. You say pieces solving a puzzle, but if I was trained to be the whole solution, why can't I be? Following orders did that to Fitz."

"No, you did."

"Following orders made me, though. Coulson tells me to see who I am without the man who saved me from a fate worse than hell… And then he still thinks he can give me orders."

"What orders?" asked Skye.

"You're sending me back to jail," Ward said. "You weren't as quiet as you thought out there. It's not fair, and you know that, but there's nothing you can do. Orders. So I'm supposed to go and be quiet."

"Ward, I'm…"

"Don't apologize again."

"You've got to go. You did bad things. There's no getting around it."

"I'm sick of Coulson's orders."

Skye took a step back, and Ward looked away from her to look back at the ceiling. She could practically feel him cooling off, closing off.

She bit her lip and thought it through, and then said, "I'm not quite sure how I feel about you right now, Ward. I'm angry, and I am so, so sorry for what I did to you. I hope I don't do it again. I hope you forgive me. Which… would be asking a lot since I haven't really forgiven you." She turned to leave.

"I know how I feel about you," Ward said to her back. "I mostly thought about you. While I was there I thought about you and what you did."

She stopped and turned around part way, still ready to walk. This was gonna hurt. "How do you feel about me?"

He gave the most exasperating half-smile and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the pillow.

She sighed. "You have to go to jail, Ward. As soon as you're healed."

She hit the door and didn't look back.

(Ward had forgiven her the minute they strapped him down to that table. One day he might even tell her that.)

/

They discovered Ward was missing that night.

He'd stood up and attacked the doctor and apparently just left. He'd even taken what was left of his clothes. And folded his hospital dress. _Because,_ Skye thought, _of course he did._

As they stood around and watched the security tape, Fitz sighed.  
"We were very stupid for thinking that would hold him," Simmons said to herself.

"He was supposed to be gravely injured," pointed out Skye.

"Great," said Fitz, his accent thicker with tiredness. "I'll never sleep soundly again." He was mostly joking, though.

"No," May assured him, "With those injuries, he won't make it a week."  
"We'll catch him," said Coulson.

As it turned out, both of their brave leaders were wrong this time.

But the doctor who had been attacked was uninjured. Ward had hit him – and then caught him before he landed. Cradling the man's head, Ward had lifted him up onto the bed and checked his pulse, then made the man comfortable. He'd straightened the doctor's head on the pillow before walking off camera. They could all see him doing it on the tape, and as they watched, some of them even realized that something about that action felt a little bit like hope.


End file.
